Ginevra
by S.L
Summary: Playboy, carefree, Auror Harry Potter becomes interested in the daughter of a low level Ministry employee. But it's the serious, career driven Director of Finance, Draco Malfoy, who would be the better man for her.  Based on the 1954 film Sabrina.
1. Chapter One

This story is based on the 1954 film Sabrina. All dialog and story ideas are taken directly from the film. Obviously, characters and certain themes have been altered to fit the Harry Potter universe, but otherwise the idea of the story has been kept as close to the original as possible.

If you have not seen the film Sabrina I highly recommend it. Hopefully you'll be dying to see it after reading this story.

Ginevra Weasley

Draco Malfoy

And

Harry Potter

in

Ginevra

Chapter One:

Once upon a time, on the North Shores of the Thames, in the heart of London, there worked a small girl in a large building. The building was very large indeed and had many employees. There were administrators to take care of the offices and solicitors on retainer. There was a caretaker to light the lamps at night and to put them out again in the morning. There were specialists to take care of the mysteries, the prophecies, the halls of both mirrors, and time. And a man of no particular title took care of the fish that lived in the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

Also in this building worked a man named Weasley, who had been recruited from Hogwarts years ago, together with his knowledge of Muggle artifacts. Weasley was a fine worker, of considerable awkwardness, like the artifacts in his care. And he had a daughter by the name of Ginevra. Or Ginny, for short.

It was the eve of the anniversary of the end of the war and, as had been traditional for the past four years, the Malfoy's were giving a party to celebrate the success of Harry Potter at their estate. It never rained on the night of the Malfoy party. The Malfoy's wouldn't have stood for it.

There were three Malfoy's in all—father, mother and a son. Narcissia and Lucius Malfoy were married in 1975. Among their many wedding presents was a town house in London and their estate in Wiltshire for weekends. The town house has since been converted into a Twilfit and Tattings.

Draco Malfoy, their only son, graduated from Hogwarts, where his classmates voted him the man most likely to leave his alma mater fifty million galleons.

Harry Potter, after graduating, went through several of the best jobs on the continent for short periods of time, and through several marriages for even shorter periods of time. He is now a successful Auror and turns all of his overdue expense reports into the Director of Finance: Draco Malfoy.

Life was pleasant at the Ministry, for now that the war was over, this was as close to heaven as one could get in government.

And tonight they celebrated.

XXX

Ginny Weasley was nibbling on a slice of cheese as she walked about the party. There was no one here who much cared to speak with her, after all she was only an administrative assistant, because her dad had managed to find her a job, and had barely warranted an invitation to the event at all. She admired the fine dresses the witches around her were wearing and watched as they twirled in them about the dance floor.

The Minister had just given a speech and was standing on a podium with Harry Potter and the Malfoy family. He had expressed his utmost gratitude, on behalf of wizards everywhere, to Harry, and his thanks to the Malfoy family for throwing the annual gathering. They were now clustered together and having their picture taken. It would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet in the morning.

Ginny lingered about the sidelines of the garden, trailing her fingers through the bushes beside her as she walked.

The photograph finished, the small group on the podium dispersed; Harry jumping off to immediately grab hold of a blond witch by her middle and whisk her to the dance floor.

Ginny was far away from the veranda now, where the witches and wizards danced, still toeing the boarder of the garden below. To get a better view she found a little tree and pulled herself up, hiding her body among the leaves.

"Come on down from there, Ginny! Come on." Arthur had found her and was standing beneath the tree Ginny was currently perched in watching the lights of the party going on above her. "You'd better finish your packing."

Ginny paid him no heed. She was busy looking at the veranda where Harry was dancing closely with the pretty blond. "Who's that girl, Dad, dancing with Harry?"

As Ginny watched Harry spun the girl around and she started giggling, punching Harry playfully on his arm.

"Her name is Turpin, Lisa Turpin," said Arthur, looking at the couple. "Auror Turpin's daughter."

Ginny scowled at her. "I hate girls that giggle all the time," she said.

"You hate every girl Harry looks at." Arthur sighed and reached a hand up to help Ginny out of her tree. "You can't go on like this about Harry. You've got to get over it."

"Yes, Dad," said Ginny.

Arthur hadn't released her hand and was looking down at her with warm affection. "It's good you're going away. I only hope it's far enough."

She couldn't quite manage to muster up a smile. "Yes, Dad," she said, instead staring at her toes.

"Come along, Ginny," he said, already turning to head to the apparation point.

"In a minute, Dad," she told him, wanting to stay just a little longer to watch the party. "You go ahead. I'll be there soon."

He turned and left Ginny leaning against her tree, worrying a torn leaf between her fingers.

The music filled the area around her, it was low and slow and punctuated by the giggling sound of the girl Harry had pinned in a corner of the veranda. They'd left the dancers behind now, in search of some privacy perhaps, and Ginny watched as Harry whispered at the blond witch's neck and laughed when she tried to escape his hold.

The witch ran away from Harry, giggling and throwing her blond curls over her shoulder as she went. Harry watched her go with a smile and then retreated to the bar to retrieve a bottle of pressed herself closer to her tree and watched as Harry bounced down the stairs of the veranda to the garden, and started walking towards her. He'd managed to just make it past her hiding spot when she pushed herself away from the tree to catch his attention.

"Oh, it's you, Ginny," said Harry, turning to her with a laugh.

"Hello, Harry," she said.

He was still smiling. "I thought I heard somebody."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but he had already turned away, whistling as he carried his bottle of champagne deeper into the garden. Her eyes followed him as he went, and a weight settled somewhere deep within her heart.

"No," she said aloud, "It's nobody."

She should have turned away then.

Instead she followed Harry into the garden, staying a discreet distance away and silencing her footsteps. It wouldn't have mattered. Harry was oblivious of everything around him as he headed towards the gazebo.

"Lisa," he called as he entered the building. "Lisa? What is this seek and hide?"

The blond witch, Lisa, was standing behind an ornate bench, giggling into her palm. "No," she teased. "You have to stay there. You're meant to seek me."

Her voice was high pitched and nasally and Ginny winced at it from her hiding spot in the bushes outside the gazebo.

"That'll be a little difficult, Lisa," Harry told her, holding out the bottle of champagne.

"You know the rules of the game," giggled Lisa.

"Okay," said Harry. "I'll count." As he counted he pulled two champagne flutes from the pocket of his robes, and set them on the floor beside the champagne. He reached for the bottle next, still slowly counting, and pushed at the cork. He'd reached a count of six by the time the cork blew, flying out the gazebo window and nearly hitting Ginny on the cheek.

"Eight," said Harry as he topped off the two glasses and started walking to Lisa. "Nine," he said as he bent over the bench and gave her a smile. "Ten," he said as he handed her a flute of champagne. "Found you."

Ginny couldn't watch anymore.

She turned away from the gazebo with tears in her eyes and started the long, heartbreaking walk to the apparation point.

By the time she'd made it back to the Burrow she'd stifled her tears, but could do nothing for the heavy ache that seemed to permeate her every nerve.

The lights were all off at the Burrow, save the one in the front hall where Arthur was still awake and waiting for her.

"Ginny!" Arthur called, as she tried to sneak passed him and up the stairs.

"Yes, Dad?" she asked, turning to him, but unable to meet his eyes.

"Don't leave your passport tomorrow," he said.

"No, Dad," she said.

He sighed, loudly and heavily. "It's not every girl that's lucky enough to go to Paris."

Ginny nodded.

"And it's the best cooking school in the world."

Again, she nodded.

"If your mother were alive, she'd be happy you were going there," this time Ginny looked up into her Dad's eyes, and pressed her lips together. "She was the best cook in Britain," he told her, smiling proudly. "I'm not saying you have to be a cook, as she was," Arthur went on. "Or that I want you to marry a Ministry man."

Ginny looked away, in favor of the view of her shoes again, but Arthur continued.

"But you know how I feel," he said. "Your mother and I had a good life together. We were respected by everyone. That's as much as anyone can want in this world." He paused for a minute, giving her a sad sort of a look. "Don't reach for the moon, child."

She had to look at him then, giving him one of her own sad, little smiles. "No, Dad," she agreed.

"Besides," he continued. "It never hurt a young girl to learn how to cook, did it?" She had nothing to say to that so she remained silent. "I'll wake you at seven. The train goes at noon. Goodnight."

Ginny forced the corners of her lips up in response to his warm tone and nodded to him. "Goodnight," she said.

Then she turned and fled upstairs to the safety of her room.

On her bed, her trunk was nearly packed, her clothes strewn about the covers ready to be folded away. She sat, running the cotton of a light summer dress through her fingers. She couldn't rid herself of the image of Harry, in the gazebo, his arms around the blond witch, his lips pressed against her hair, her skin, her neck.

Making up her mind, she tossed aside her dress and moved to her desk where she pulled out a piece of paper.

'Dear Dad,' she wrote. 'I don't want to go to Paris. I want to die. Please forgive me for what I am about to do. Goodbye, Ginny.'

She folded the paper in half and held it between her fingers before reconsidering. Then she unfolded it, grabbed her quill and added a postscript that read, 'Don't have Harry at the funeral. He probably wouldn't even cry.'

Finished, she stood up, folded the paper once more, left her room and slid the letter under her dad's bedroom door.

The Ministry was quite this time of night, particularly when anyone who is anyone was already at the Malfoy party. Ginny stood in the Atrium and stared at the Fountain of Magical Brethren and considered her next move. Then, with slow determination she entered the elevators and hit the button for level two.

She found what she was looking for in the room at the end of the hall, beside her dad's office, where several old Muggle were stored for experimentation in a magically expanded room. Ginny made sure that door was shut firmly behind her before navigated through the darkness to turn the ignition on each car.

It was not a small room, but it was crowded with cars, so when she finished starting up the engines and watched as the smoke billowed from the exhaust pipes, she estimated that it wouldn't take long for the space to fill with the Muggle chemicals. To hurry the process along, she crawled to the back of the room and laid her head against the hard floor, forcing herself to breathe in the fumes directly from the exhaust of a convertible.

She began coughing immediately as thick smoke poured into her lungs and she stood up for a breath of the blissfully fresh air above the cars. Sighing, she leaned her body against the wall, inhaling slowly, feeling more and more sleepy by the minute. Ginny closed her eyes.

There was a bang from the hallway and a call of, "What's going on?" The door slammed open and a male voice yelled out, "Weasley?"

She threw herself to the floor again and hid behind the car even as she heard the intruder move towards the cars. He was turning the engines off.

"Anybody here?" he shouted as he moved.

Ginny rolled along the floor, scooting down the line of cars and away from the voice, coughing all the while. She snuck a glimpse over the door of the convertible to see Draco Malfoy standing in his fine dress robes squinting at her through the smoke.

"Who's that?" he asked.

She dropped to the floor and slunk beneath the convertible.

His footsteps sounded out through the darkness as he neared her hiding place. The ignition in the convertible cut out, then he squatted down beside the car.

"Ginny, come on out of there," he said.

Ginny coughed again and stuck her head out from beneath the car.

"Come on," he repeated.

"Hello," she said, feeling rather ridiculous.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, still squatting beside the car.

"Just checking the spark plugs," she told him. She coughed again.

His face scrunched up. "The what?"

She scooted out a little further, leaning on her arms. "Dad was worried, because a spark plug was missing. I wanted to find out which one it was."

Draco looked around the room then back at her. "So you started the motors and closed the door?

Ginny looked down at her greasy hands, ashamed. "I didn't want to disturb anyone," she said.

"You might never have done so again," he said as he stood.

She crawled out from under the car, and dusted dirt from her skirt.

"Does your father know?" he asked her.

"No!" She shouted at him, taking a step forward. "I wanted to surprise him." She dissolved into a fit of coughs, struggling for a breath as her lungs forced the smoke out.

"We'd better get out," he said, grabbing her arm and moving her towards the door again.

"There now," he said when they were in the hall. "Breathe deep." His hand moved to her stomach, pressing against her diaphragm as she inhaled.

She followed his instructions, sucking in the fresh air. Her whole body was tingling and she felt light headed.

"That's right. Now, deep breath," he said, still pressing on her chest.

Ginny obeyed, breathing in deep.

The next thing she knew her whole body was being jostled and she was nose to nose with black material that kept rubbing her cheek.

"What happened?" she said, suddenly aware of the arm that was wrapped around the back of her legs keeping her steady on Draco's shoulder.

"You passed out," he said, voice rumbling against her as he walked.

"I'm alright," she insisted. "You don't have to carry me."

"Of all the idiotic things…" he said.

They were in the Atrium. He set her back on her feet beside the Fountain.

"Haven't you heard of Muggle fumes? It kills people," scolded Draco.

Ginny looked up at him, not wanting to admit the truth. "It does?" she asked, innocently.

The look he gave her was un-amused. "What would have happened if I hadn't come along?" he asked.

She stared at her scuffed shoes. "I'd have died," she told him honestly.

"And fast," he snapped. "Eight cars! One would have done it." He walked away from her for a moment, and then turned around. "Good thing Mr. Turpin asked me to pick up his attaché case from the Auror offices."

Ginny's head snapped back up, sure enough Draco also had a bag slung over one shoulder. He must have heard the cars from down the hall and come to see who was still at the Ministry. "Mr. Turpin? Lisa's father?" she pursed her lips in annoyance. "Why didn't Lisa get it?"

Draco was scowling at that too, clearly volunteering for the job was not his top choice. "We can't find Lisa."

"She," Ginny said before she could stop herself. She pressed her lips together firmly.

"She what?" asked Draco.

Ginny coughed once more and shook her head. "Nothing."

Draco gave her a thoughtful look. "The next time you mess with any Muggle artifacts, make sure your father's around to tell you what's safe. Understand?"

She nodded.

"You'd think a Muggle specialist's daughter should know better," he said as he turned away.

"Yes, sir," said Ginny to his departing back. She sighed as she watched him move for the nearest floo and sat down on the edge of the fountain. There were so many feelings stored up in her body right then, but more than embarrassment, more than hurt, or heartache she felt one thing; tired.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

"Bonjour, mes dames et messieurs!" Chef shouted. "Yesterday we have learnt the correct way how to boil water. Today we will learn the correct way how to crack an egg."

He produced an egg from one of his apron pockets and held it out for the class to see. "Voila, an egg!"

Ginny sighed, but remained at her workstation at the end of the row of her classmates.

"Now an egg is not a stone," Chef told them, still holding the egg out for them to admire. "It is not made of wood. It is a living thing with a heart. So when we _crack_ it we must not _torment_ it!"

The other students were nodding in agreement, paying rapt attention to every word out of Chef's mouth.

"We must be merciful and execute it quickly, like with the guillotine," said Chef. "It is done with one hand. Kindly watch the wrist," he dipped his wrist in a sudden motion, miming how an egg should be properly cracked.

"Voila," he went on, holding the egg over a bowl at his workstation. "One, two, three, _crack_!" The egg in his hand cracked seamlessly, dropping its contents into the bowl, the shell remaining in Chef's palm. "You see? It is all in the wrist," he said. "And now, everybody, take an egg."

Ginny looked down at her workstation. There were two bowls in front of her. One filled to the rim with fresh eggs, the other completely empty.

Chef was walking down the aisle between the workstations, watching her classmates' technique. "One, two, three, _crack_!" He shouted as he moved. Followed by, "New egg!" On '_crack_' she heard the sound of a dozen eggs cracking simultaneously.

"One, two, three, _crack_!"

She reached for an egg with one hand, and held it there.

"New egg. One, two, three, _crack_!"

The egg shattered in her hand, messily dripping down her wrist. The yolk was still captured in the jagged bits of eggshell. She quickly hid it behind her back and straightened her posture. Chef was standing just across from her.

"Take an egg," he told her. "_Crack_!"

Ginny moved her arm and held out her broken egg. Chef's lips twisted and he reached for one of her eggs. "The wrist, huh?" he said, showing her how he had the egg held in his hand. "Like a whip. You watch."

"One, two, three, _crack_!" He shouted.

The egg he cracked splintered messily, faring no better than Ginny's. Chef stared at his hand in horror. "New egg!" he shouted, dropping the remains into Ginny's bowl and turning around to address the rest of the class.

"One, two, three, _crack_!" As he walked away he wiped the remains of the raw egg on the back of his apron, hoping no one else would notice.

XXX

"'Dear Dad,'" Arthur read to the break room. "'Or Cher Papa as we say over here. Isn't my French getting good? We finally finished our four-week course in sauces, thank goodness! Soups were tough, but sauces just about killed me. I almost flunked my hollandaise. It kept separating on me.'"

"Too much vinegar," said Hermione as she sipped at her tea. "Does she mention Harry?"

Perkins poked his head in the door. "Mr. Malfoy is looking for you, Arthur. He wants to go over this term's budget."

Arthur stood, gathering Ginny's letter together.

"What does she say about Harry?" Hermione repeated.

"Not a word," Arthur told her, skimming the rest of the letter for a reference. "No wait. Here's something. 'I don't think of Harry very much.'"

"That's good," said Ron. He was beside his wife working on a ploughman's.

"'Except at night,'" continued Arthur.

"That's bad," added Percy.

"'I decided to be sensible and tore up his picture,'" read Arthur.

"That's good," said Hermione.

Arthur continued, "'Please mail me some spello-tape.'"

"That's bad," said Ron.

Arthur sighed and put the letter away in his inner coat pocket. Then he promised his children he'd see them later and returned to his shabby office at the end of the hall. Draco Malfoy was already there waiting for him.

"Morning, Weasley," said Draco. He had a stack of papers sitting on Arthur's desk, and was holding a notepad in one hand.

"Morning, sir," said Arthur as he took his seat. "Beautiful day, sir."

Draco looked up from his pad and blinked at him. "I expect it is."

There was a crash from the hallway and a figure went racing by. A moment later a small winged snitch flew into the room, knocking various artifacts off the shelves, and Draco's carefully organized papers to the floor. With the reflexes of a seeker, Draco's hand whipped out and grasped the small vibrating ball. At his touch it fell still, it's wings curling around its small body.

"Morning, Draco," said Harry Potter. He was leaning in Arthur's doorframe panting heavily. "What are you two at today?"

Draco frowned at the other man. "Work. What do you think?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "On a Friday afternoon? Isn't it about time to head home?"

"Today is Wednesday, and it's one o'clock," said Draco

"Wednesday?" said Harry in complete shock. He looked at Arthur, giving him a look and a shrug as if to say 'who knew?' Smiling, Harry grabbed the snitch from Draco's hand and headed back out the door.

Draco turned back to Arthur. "Excuse me a moment," he said. Then he pulled a Dicta-Quill from his pocket and set it on a blank piece of parchment. "Inter-office memo to Harry Potter," he said aloud, watching as the quill took down his words. "Dear Harry, you are a junior Auror at the Ministry of Magic located on the North Bank of the Thames in London. Your office is on the second floor.

"Our normal week is Monday to Friday. Our normal day is nine to five. If this is inconvenient you may retire with your pension. Having been with us one year, your entitlement is 4 galleons a month for the rest of your life."

Then Draco reached for the quill, set it back on the desk, and folded the memo into a paper airplane and sent it on it's way. When he was done he sighed and looked across the desk at Arthur.

"What do you hear from your daughter?" he asked.

Arthur was staring mindlessly into space and answered with the first thing that came to his head. "She still loves him," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" said Draco.

"I mean," said Arthur quickly. "She loves the cooking school, sir."

Draco nodded absently, already reaching to pick his files up from the floor.

Arthur sighed. "But she'll get over it."

XXX

"Soon," said Chef in his booming voice. "We will see how you have learnt the lesson of the soufflé."

Ginny inhaled deeply and held her breath.

"The soufflé," continued Chef. "It must be gay. Gay. Like two butterflies dancing the waltz in the summer breeze."

She exhaled, and stared, as usually, at her shoes.

"Very well," said Chef. "You have five seconds!"

"Four seconds," he said.

"Three seconds."

"Two seconds."

"_One_ second."

Chef clapped his hands. "To the ovens!"

In unison the class turned about and strode towards the ovens to see how they had managed. Ginny opened the grate and pulled out her soufflé, sighing when she realized it had barely risen at all.

"Too low," said Chef as he went down the line, examining her classmate's efforts. "Too pale…Too heavy…Too low…Too high, you are exaggerating…Fair…So-so…Sloppy."

Chef paused at the man who stood beside Ginny. "Mmm! Superb! My dear Baron, you have not lost your touch!" He stepped again and took in Ginny's efforts. "Much too low," he said then strode away.

Ginny walked to her workstation, Baron at her heels.

"I don't know what happened," she told him, setting her soufflé on the table.

"I will tell you," said Baron as he set down his own 'superb' soufflé. "You forgot to turn on the oven."

She gave him an embarrassed look, but couldn't gather the desire to say anything in her own defense.

"I have been watching you," said Baron, pointing a finger at her and smiling. "Your mind has not been on the cooking. It has been elsewhere," He pulled his hands apart in a grand gesture. "You are in love! And," he added, shaking a finger at her. "I will venture to go a step further. You are unhappily in love!"

She bit her lip then released it with a pop. "Does it show?"

"Very clearly," said Baron. "A woman happily in love? She burns the soufflé. A woman unhappily in love? She forgets to turn on the oven." He gave her a kindly look. "Am I correct."

"Yes," Ginny admitted. "But I'm trying to get over it."

"Why get over it?" Baron smiled at her. "You speak of love like it was a bad cough."

Ginny pouted. "He doesn't even know I exist. I might as well be reaching for the moon."

"The moon?" Baron laughed. "Oh, you young people are so old-fashioned! Have you not heard? Muggles have already built rockets to reach the moon."

At that Ginny couldn't help but crack a smile and laugh with Baron.

"To begin with," he went on more seriously. "You must stop looking like a horse."

"A horse?" cried Ginny indignantly, feeling very much offended.

Baron made a gesture with a smile and Ginny laughed as she reached a hand up to feel the base of her pony-tale.

XXX

"'His name is Baron Saint Fontanel,'" Arthur read. They were in the break room again with Ginny's latest letter.

"Baron!" Percy cried.

Ron silenced him with a bump of his shoulder.

"'He came here for a refresher course in soufflés and like me so much he decided to stay on for the fish.'"

They all laughed together, fondly thinking of Ginny and her adventures in Paris.

"What does she say about Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Harry?" quipped Ron. "She's got a baron!"

Arthur smiled at them and read on "'He's 74 years old," there was a collective sigh of disappointment. "'And very sweet and very wise. He has a box at the opera, a racing stable, wonderful paintings, and his own vineyards. Tomorrow night he is taking me to a very fashionable charity ball and I have a dress for the occasion. If Harry could only see me in it.'"

Hermione made a 'tut-tut' sort of a noise and Ron was shaking his head.

"'Yards of skirt and way off the shoulders,'" continued Arthur.

Harry popped in through the canteen door headed directly for the coffeepot.

"Morning, Harry," they chorused, each giving him their greeting.

"Morning," he said as he turned his back and poured himself a mug of coffee. "What's going on?"

"A letter from Ginny," answered Ron.

Hermione was smiling. "Wouldn't you like to read it? There's something about you," she hinted.

Harry however, just grunted, dropped a sugar cube in his coffee and left.

"Poor Ginny," sighed Hermione as she watched him go.

"What' wrong with him?" asked Arthur, trying to read the expression on his children's faces.

"He's getting married," Hermione informed him. "Again."

"He is?" asked Arthur, disbelievingly.

Ron arched his brows and nodded. "Number four."

"Who says so?" asked Arthur.

"Rita Skeeter," informed Percy. "Don't you ever read the society columns?"

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and leaned into her husband Ron who sighed and planted an affectionate kiss on the top of her head.

XXX

Harry rushed down the hall, his coffee mug clutched tightly in his hand, the heat stinging his palm. He turned the corner to the Department of Finance and marched up to the head secretary's desk.

"Is Draco Malfoy in?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, but he's very busy," the young witch told him, giving Harry a disapproving glare.

Harry frowned at her. "I want to see him."

The witch sighed and looked down at the calendar on her desk. "How about at half three?" she asked.

"I want to see him now!" Harry told her.

"I'm sorry," the witch sighed. She looked annoyed. "I have my orders. He's working on a new deal with the Minister."

Harry glared at the door to Draco Malfoy's office then looked down at the young witch's desk. There was a button on her desk, a button that would open the door and allow him into the office.

"Press that button," he demanded. "Or I'll break that door down using you as a battering ram!"

"Mr. Potter!" the witch exclaimed in a shocked tone.

Harry set his mug down on her desk and let his hands slam against it. "Make up your mind!"

The witch exhaled heavily, clearly bothered by the situation, but pressed the button.

Harry gave her a glare, picked up his mug and marched through the door to Draco's office.

"Draco, I want to talk to you," he shouted as he entered. Draco was sitting at a long rectangular table, holding a meeting with a half dozen other people, all department heads. Their heads whipped around to stare at him as he entered.

Draco gave him a lazy glare and gestured towards the door. "Make an appointment."

"Don't give me that," snapped Harry. "I'm mad!"

There was a moment of consideration before Draco nodded. "All right, gentlemen," he said, addressing the other men. "I'll be ten minutes."

The department head's filled out, some giving Harry gentle smiles, other annoyed glares as they left.

"Now what's the trouble?" Draco asked as the other men left.

Harry set his mug down on Draco's desk and pulled a paper from his inner coat pocket. "How did this get in the paper?" he asked, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet in an accusatory manner. "'Harry Potter is to marry again. The girl is Alicia Spinnet of the Abingdon Spinnet's.'" He slammed the paper down on Draco's desk.

"Congratulations," said Draco, pulling his wand from his sleeve and walking past Harry.

"Did you plant this?" demanded Harry.

Draco gave him an annoyed look. "It's common knowledge about you and Alicia Spinnet. Don't you like her?"

Harry frowned. "I like her a lot," he said. "I like a lot of girls a lot."

"You can say that again," said Draco, turning away.

There was a pause as Harry watched Draco flourish his wand. "What are you doing with that wand?" Draco turned to him, wand outstretched, pointed directly at him. "Put that thing away, Draco!"

Draco turned and shouted, "_Stupefy_!" at the wall behind Harry.

Harry ducked instinctually, but when nothing immediately happened he stood up again and turned to look where Draco had fired. He hadn't actually been aiming for the wall, but at a strip of clear plastic that was hanging from two bits of string from the ceiling.

"Look at that," said Draco as he passed by Harry. "The greatest plastic ever made. Not a scratch." He pulled the bit of plastic off its hooks and held it up against the light. "I wonder how this'd stand up to a killing curse?"

Draco moved to his office door, opened it and shouted for this secretary. "Miss McCardle, ask Auror Shacklebolt if he would authorize an experimental use of the killing curse."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," the young witch said as she disappeared out the door again.

"To get back to my problem," reminded Harry.

Draco made an appeasing gesture. "Set fire to this, would you?" he asked, holding up the slice of plastic.

Sighing, Harry pulled out his wand and sent a quick, "_Incendio_!" at the plastic. "Draco," he went on as Draco examined the undamaged plastic. "I have no intention of marrying Alicia Spinnet!"

"Doesn't burn," said Draco, still running his fingers over the surface of the plastic. "Doesn't scorch, doesn't melt. How about that?"

"I've been married before," explained Harry. "I've had it three times."

This time Draco's head snapped up and he stared hard at Harry. "This time," he said. "The Ministry approves. Now," he added, looking at his plastic again. "You're going to do something constructive," he held out the piece of plastic to Harry. "Taste it."

"What's constructive?" asked Harry as he took the offering. He tentatively licked the surface. "About marrying her?"

"Taste it," encouraged Draco.

Harry licked again, really tasting the surface this time. "It's sweet," he explained, passing it back to Draco.

"It's made of sugar cane," explained Draco.

"Sugar cane," repeated Harry. "Wait a minute," he dug through his thoughts and frowned at Draco. "The Spinnet's own the largest holdings of sugar cane in Puerto Rico!"

"Second largest," Draco informed him as he returned the plastic to its spot on hanging from the ceiling and took a seat at his desk. "The largest have no daughter."

Harry glared at the other man and retrieved his coffee, taking a long, well earned sip. "It's all beginning to make sense. Mr. Spinnet owns the sugar cane."

"And Alicia owns the formula and development of the plastics," added Draco.

"And I'm offered as a sacrifice on the alter of industrial progress!" Harry finished.

"You make it sound as if the son of the curry dynasty had to marry the daughter of the chip king," drawled Draco. "Surely you don't object to Alicia because her father has 25 million galleons?" His tongue struck his teeth, making disappointed noise. "That's very narrow-minded of you.

Harry glared at him. "Just one thing. I haven't proposed and she hasn't accepted."

"Oh, don't worry," laughed Draco. "I proposed and Mr. Spinnet accepted."

"Did you kiss him?" smirked Harry.

The glare Draco returned was not amused. "Alicia is a lovely girl. Sooner or later you'll propose. I'm helping you make up your mind."

"Then you marry her," Harry shouted in retaliation.

"Me?" laughed Draco.

Harry glared at him. "What's so funny?"

Draco was shaking his head, a smile on his face. "If I got married, I'd have to take a Dicta-Quill, two secretaries and four Ministry counselors along on the honeymoon. I'd be unfaithful to my wife every night with department heads, boards of directors, solicitors and accountants…" He was still shaking his head when he spread his arms wide to indicate the conference table set up in his office. "This…this is my home. No wife would ever understand it."

Harry was staring at him. "Nor me," he admitted. "You've got all the money in the world."

The responding silence was sharp. "Making money," said Draco. Isn't the main point of business. _Money_," he went on. "Is a by-product."

"What's the main objective?" asked Harry. "Power?"

"Ack," dismissed Draco with a wave of his hand. "That's become a dirty word."

Harry reconsidered. "What's the urge? You're going into plastics. What will that prove?"

The look Draco gave him was disbelieving. "Prove?" he questioned. "Nothing much. A new product has been found, something of use to our world. A new industry moves into an undeveloped area. Factories go up, spell work is developed and you're in business.

"With Alicia's patent we dip all the Auror's body armor in her plastic coating and have near perfect spell protection! The jobs that are developed are inconsequential. It's coincidental that people who've never seen a sickle now have a galleon and barefooted kids wear shoes and have their faces washed."

Draco was standing again, pacing his office with a restless energy that unnerved Harry. "What's wrong with an urge," he continued. "That gives people libraries, hospitals, Quidditch fields and a tune on the wireless on a Saturday night? What's wrong with protecting the Auror's who put their lives on the line, or bringing sisters back to their brothers and husbands back to wives at the end of a long campaign?"

Draco stopped his pacing to hit a button on his desk. "Send in the secretaries," he said to his receptionist.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," the disembodied voice responded.

"You make me feel like a heel," growled Harry. "It I don't marry her, some kid will run around Puerto Rico barefoot! Some Auror won't be around to return home to his kids!"

But Draco was already moving on, pulling down his sheet of plastic again and setting it up between two spread chairs. "Look at this stuff," he said as he arranged the sheet to his liking. "Trains and cloaks will be made of it and you'll probably be able to eat it before research and development are done. The Ministry is organizing new development plans, the Department of Mysteries is even covering additional staff for research."

"The wheels are in motion already?" asked Harry, moving to Draco's side.

Draco gave him an appraising look. "That's what I mean."

The secretaries were filtering in, all six of them smiling shyly at Harry and giggling into their hands.

"Would you demonstrate the weight test to Mr. Potter, please?" Draco asked them, motioning to the plastic.

The witches, still smiling, stepped up onto the plastic until all six of them were standing on the clear substance. Draco pushed Harry forward towards the group.

"Draco, I believe you," said Harry even as he was forced up with the rest of the witches. They grabbed him by the arms and around the middle to haul him up properly, stationing him firmly in the center of their group.

"Up you go," said Draco, giving him the last firm push off the ground. "I want you to see how resilient it is. Bounce, please, ladies."

Around Harry the witches began to bounce, and he found himself shaking up and down in the small crowd of women.

Below him, Draco was giving him a smug smile. "Some plastic, eh? We'd like a summer wedding, to get in on this year's sugar crop."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, still bouncing with the secretaries.

Draco smiled. "I think you're going to be very happy."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

Ginny set at her desk, a piece of parchment in front of her and a quill in her hand.

'Dear Dad,' she wrote. 'We shall be graduating next week and I shall be getting my diploma. I want to thank you now for the two most wonderful years of my life. I shall always love you for sending me here.'

She paused, listening to the soft tones of a melody floating on midnight air in Paris and stood up from her desk. Ginny walked to the window and thrust open the shutters so to better hear the tune.

'It is late at night,' she wrote when she returned to her desk. 'And someone across the way is playing 'La Vie En Rose.' It is the French way of saying; I am looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. It says everything I feel.

'I have learnt so many things, Dad. Not just how to make vichyssoise or calf's head with sauce vinaigrette, but a much more important recipe. I have learnt how to live, how to be in the world and of the world—and not just to stand aside and watch.

'And I will never, never again run away from life, or from love, either.

'I am taking the train home on Friday, Dad. You needn't meet me at the Burrow or the Ministry. You can meet me at the rail station. I'll be on the four fifteen.

'If you should have any difficulty recognizing your daughter, I shall be the most sophisticated woman at Kings Cross.'

XXX

One week later found Ginny waiting at the rail station, her trunk at her feet, her little dog on it's leash and her dad no where to be found.

She paced the length of the curb outside the station, watching as the taxi's passed and the people rushed too and fro.

"Waiting for a taxi miss?" said someone behind her.

Ginny turned to find Harry Potter standing just beside her, a wide grin on his face. "I can find you the cheapest rates in London," he teased with a smile.

She smiled widely at him, holding a hand to her head where her hat was covering her hair. "Hello," she said. "How are you?"

His smile widened. "Well, I'm fine. How are you? And might I add, who are you?"

Her mouth opened in understanding. He couldn't even recognize her in her posh skirt suit and with her trim figure. "Who am I?" she asked teasingly.

"Am I supposed to know?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No," she admitted with a laugh. "You're not supposed to know." She was a new woman now.

"Are you stranded?" Harry asked her, the flirtatious smile still on his lips.

"My dad was meant to pick me up," she told him.

Harry was still grinning at her. "Whoever your father is, I'll be eternally grateful. That is if I can give you a lift? I've a car in a garage not too far from here."

Briefly she considered telling Harry who she really was, or informing him that apparation would do just fine. But if Harry wanted to think she was a Muggle, then why should she stop him? Especially since the drive to Devon was nearly three hours. It would give them far more time together than a brief apparation.

"You can drive me home," she told him.

"Good," he said, clearly pleased with the development. "I'll get your bags." He was reaching for her trunk already, grabbing it by the strap and lifting it onto its back wheels so he could walk it along the pavement. "Where do you live?"

"Devon," she told him as she brought along her little dog. "Is that too far?"

"No," he said, looking rather taken aback. "That's where I live."

Ginny smiled. "Really?" she said, though she had heard something about Harry staying at the Burrow for a brief period.

"Sure," said Harry. "We must be neighbors." He bumped her hip with his as they walked. "And I believe in loving thy neighbor."

Ginny just grinned at him. "Oh," she said finally. "So do I."

They walked for a few minutes, deeper into London and away from the traffic of the rail station until they came to an underground garage. Harry fished a set of keys from his pocket and walked them to an old convertible she was sure he stashed in the city for when he was feeling reckless. He loaded her things into the boot and clicked the doors unlocked.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny told her little dog as she helped him into the passenger seat.

"Harry?" laughed Harry. "Is his name Harry?"

"Yes," said Ginny as she settled her dog on her lip. Her lips were pressed together in mirth. "It is."

"That's funny," said Harry as he sat in the drivers seat and started the car. "My name's Harry, too."

Ginny resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "That is funny, isn't it?"

They drove for some time until the crowded buildings of the city stretched into the low level countryside. They had been talking in a light, teasing sort of conversation for hours and the atmosphere was very relaxed.

"Sure you don't want to tell me your name?" Harry asked as he navigated the roads. He'd been asking her every quarter of an hour or so to see if she would relent.

"I'm having much too much fun," Ginny admitted as she hid her face in her little dog's coat.

Harry laughed. "Alright, if you want to play games…"

They drove for a short time longer before he brought the subject up again. "Have you always lived here?" he asked.

"Most of my life," she told him.

"I'd swear I know every pretty girl in the South West."

Ginny laughed. "You take in more territory than that," she couldn't help but say.

Harry just grinned at her again. "This is maddening. I've seen that face before. Let me see your profile again." Ginny straightened her head to give him a good look of her in profile. "I know, I know you," sighed Harry, still trying to place her. "I have a feeling I've seen you…" he trailed off as he thought. "With your father! Wait! Is your father the Deputy Minister?"

Ginny grinned at the thought. "Hardly."

"Funny," said Harry, still thinking hard. "I keep seeing him at the Ministry," he muttered low, probably so she wouldn't hear him. "Give us a hint. What does your father do?"

"He's with…artifacts," she told him.

"Artifacts?" Harry repeated. "Museums? The British Museum?"

"No," laughed Ginny.

"Archeology then, one of the universities in London?"

Again Ginny laughed out a loud, "No."

"Does he document his work, a writer with one of the publishing houses?"

"No."

"I pass," said Harry, exhausting his list of possibilities.

"Muggle artifacts," explained Ginny, giving Harry a sidelong glance to see how he'd respond.

He shot her a sharp look, then a quick smile. "Of magic?" he asked, voice deep and husky now he knew she was a witch.

"Yes," she told him. "Works closely with the Minister, the Aurors, and Wizengamot."

Harry was blinking at her. "Is he working alongside all those departments?"

"You might say," said Ginny drawing it out. "That he runs things." It was certainly true. He was technically head of his own department.

"I bet Draco Malfoy knows him," said Harry as he stared absently at the road ahead of them.

Ginny pursed her lips and nodded. "He certainly does. They often discuss business together."

Harry shot her another surprised look. "They do?"

At this point they had nearly reached the Burrow.

"A left up here, then straight down the road, please."

"I feel so stupid I could kill myself," said Harry as he looked at her, still trying to place her face.

"You'll be alright in a minute," she told him, then gestured again for him to turn off towards the Burrow.

He angled his car down the dusty, unused path.

"I'm not just pretending we've met somewhere before," he told her seriously. "We have met some…" he suddenly realized where they were and glared at her. "You don't live here. I live here!"

Ginny smiled at him as she clutched her dog to her chest. "Hi, neighbor!"

He was gaping at her, but as they'd already stopped in front of the house, she leaned across and slammed her hand down on the car horn, rousing whoever was in the Burrow kitchen.

Harry was still gaping when she jumped out the car door and ran into the waiting arms of Hermione, Ron, Percy, and his fiancé Audrey, and George.

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed as she threw herself at the other witch.

"Hello, Hermione," said Ginny, giving her a big hug. "It's so good to be home!" She threw her arms around her brothers, trying to hug all three at once.

George was laughing and clutching her shoulder in a strong grip. "Look at you! You've come home such a beautiful lady!"

"Oh, welcome home, Ginny," said Percy.

"Percy! Audrey! How are you?" asked Ginny, elated to see her family again. "Don't cry, Hermione," said Ginny when she noticed the tears in the other witch's eyes. "It's nothing to cry about. I brought you a hat," she told her. "A Paris hat for you to wear to special events. And Audrey I have something for you…"

But she stopped talking after that because she caught sight of her dad walking down the hill from the apparation point. "Dad!" she cried as she ran towards him.

"I'm sorry," rambled Arthur as he came towards her. "There was a mix up at the department and I had to run to Glasgow and I was so afraid I'd missed you…"

"It doesn't matter!" cried Ginny as she threw her arms around her dad and squeezed.

There were tears in Arthur's eyes as the separated. "I wouldn't have recognized you anyway."

"Harry had a little trouble," admitted Ginny. "Didn't you?" she spared a glance over her shoulder where Harry was standing amongst her family giving her a curious look. Dog Harry was clutched in his arms looking uncomfortable.

"Yes," said Harry. "I did."

Hermione gave the group a strained look at motioned back towards the Burrow. "I'll make tea. Will you come to the kitchen?"

Ginny smiled at her. "As soon as I've opened my bags."

Arthur gave her a peck on the cheek as the others headed inside. "I'll take them upstairs."

Ginny watched as everyone headed inside leaving her and Harry alone beside his little convertible.

"As old neighbors the two of us should have a reunion," teased Harry, handing her Harry the dog.

"It's only fair," Ginny agreed.

Harry smiled at her. "Tonight?"

She held her breath for a moment, her heart leaping in her chest. "Do you really want to see me?"

His eyes smoldered at her. "Very much."

"Sure?" she asked again, remembering the absolute heartbreak she'd experienced over the years at his expense.

"Yes," he told her. "I'm sure."

"Alright," she agreed.

His smile blossomed on his face making her grin in response. "We'll go out on the town," he said. "We'll apparate to London, have a quick drink, then go for dinner. I know a wonderful French restaurant…but I guess you wouldn't think so much of it after Paris," he finished, sounded upset.

"I'll love it!" she reassured him quickly.

A smile spread across his face again. "We'll go dancing. When they throw us out of El Morocco we'll go to Diagon Alley. Do you like live bands? I know the greatest. It's…" he drifted off, caught up in his own thoughts. "Wait, I forgot," his tone sunk and he looked at her with depressing stoicism. "We're having a party here tonight, for your brother's engagement."

"Percy's engagement?" she asked, though she didn't need the answer. She'd already heard all about it in a letter last week. "Will there be an orchestra and dancing? That'll be even more fun."

Harry wasn't smiling now. "I don' t know," he said. "A lot of dull people. Lots of Ministry stuff."

"I don't mind," said Ginny, looking up at him through her lashes. "If you're there."

"Ginny!"

There was a call from the house, interrupting their conversation.

"Just a minute, dad!" she called back, letting dog Harry down on the ground. "I have a lovely evening dress," she told Harry. "With yards of skirt and way off the shoulders. Shall I wear it?"

Harry opened his mouth, but at first no sound came out and then, "Why, yes," he said. "Of course."

Ginny grinned as she headed towards the house. "This couldn't be nicer," she called out. "A homecoming party! I'll get the dress out and press it." She headed towards the house, but stopped at the threshold to the kitchen door. "See you tonight."

She'd nearly made it inside when she noticed Draco Malfoy walking down the hill from the apparation point already dressed in his party best. She gave him a wave, "Hello, Draco," she called out. "I'm back!" Then she disappeared inside.

XXX

Draco watched as Ginny Weasley shut the door behind her, noticing the way Harry's gaze lingered on her backside.

"It's Ginny," Harry told him when Draco joined him. "Would you have recognized her? That scrawny kid who'd run away whenever she saw me, her knees painted with dirt? How do you like those legs now?" Harry laughed, eyes widening at the memory. "Aren't they something?"

Draco glared at the other man, sensing an issue. "Harry, the last pair of legs that were something cost the Auror department 25 thousand galleons."


End file.
